How to Be a Vampire - The Dreaded D
by SaintAugustana
Summary: Embry slacks in school and Dimitri finds out, but it's not what angers him the most. Introducing a new OC: Josephine. Warnings for corporal punishment/cp/spanking of a minor.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Though I'm not elated with how this story turned out, I have a larger plot arc in the works [up to about 10,000 words on the current installment right now] that needs my attention and I really wanted to introduce the character of Josephine.  
**

**Chapter 1 - D  
**

"D!?"

I think it was the first time I'd ever heard Dimitri truly surprised at anything.

"You got a D in History. How did you manage that?" He glared at me, one hand on the steering wheel of his sanguine Porsche, the other clutching my latest report card from St. Jude's. I grimaced, sinking lower into the leather passenger seat and clutching my backpack against my chest.

"It's not a rhetorical question, Embry Denatos," he tested dangerously. "How did you get a _D_ in History?"

"I failed the last two tests because I didn't study," I mumbled into the fabric of my backpack.

"WHAT?"

The car veered and screeched angrily.

xxxxx

"I think it's time I start taking more of an interest in your grades," Dimitri asserted as he led me through the front door and into the kitchen, where Josephine always had an after-school snack waiting for me. I had been hoping for pie, but now my mind was otherwise occupied. He shrugged off his coat, tossing the report card down on the counter. I slumped into one of the chairs at the little circular table in the center of the room.

"But my grades have always been really good," I offered truthfully.

"Except recently." He took a seat in the bay window.

Pouting, I sighed dramatically. "It's just _that_, Dimitri. They've always been _good_. Great, even. I work harder than anybody else in my class! Why do I have to make straight A's? Nobody else in my class makes straight A's. Everybody else does average and the teachers don't complain. But I make one D and everybody's throwing a fit!"

"Including you," he commented sternly. "And that doesn't explain why you skipped school today."

I froze. "I don't know what you're-"

"Don't," he warned, raising an eyebrow at me.

I sunk back against my chair, suddenly finding my hands very interesting. "How did you know?"

"I know everything," he drawled, folding his arms across his chest and watching me with interest.

"You read my mind." It was more of a statement than a question.

"I didn't have to," he conceded, swiping the report card from the counter. "This was issued _yesterday_."

I groaned, squeezing my eyes shut and cursing under my breath. _Rookie mistake!_

"Indeed. So, care to explain?"

I ignored the quip. "I'm just tired of school. There was a carnival in town and Damien wanted to go."

"Don't you put this off on Damien. You make your own choices. And where was Josephine in all of this? She's supposed to be driving you to school this week."

"I told her we had a field trip there this morning and I was already late to school so she should just go ahead and drop me off at the fairgrounds," I admitted glumly.

"Why were you late?"

I swallowed, hanging my head. "Josephine got up late."

"That's unlike her," Dimitri remarked. "She's always been quite punctual. It's one of the reasons I hired her."

"First time for everything?" I ventured.

"Do I _need _to read your mind?" He advanced. I shrank back, offering a muted 'no, sir.'

"Why were you late?"

"I turned off Josephine's alarm clock last night."

"So you deliberately exploited her eagerness to help out with taking you to school from now on by lying to her, you premeditated an act of blatant disobedience-" I flinched at his escalating tone, "_and_ you touched things that you have no business touching. Is that about a complete summation of your endeavors today?"

"Well, when you put it like that," I jested, unwisely. Dimitri's face was like a marble statue of unamusement. I faltered. "Uh... yeah, that's... yeah."

For a few seconds, neither of us spoke. Tentatively, I looked up. Dimitri patted his leg. I lolled my head back, groaning audibly. "Dimitri, come on, it was just once!"

"That's no excuse. Come here."

"Dimitri..." I whined futilely.

"How old are you again?"

"Thirteen," I muttered.

"Act like it."

I bit my bottom lip and got to my feet with a dramatic sigh, slightly ticked, but something in me knew better than to argue. I doubted it would be a memorable punishment.

Against any notion of self-preservation, I ambled huffily to his side, loosened my school-issue tie, and leaned over his lap, my dignity discarded. He began without preamble, holding me by the collar and swatting me with his hand, hard and fast. I squirmed and whimpered, as per usual. Then, after just a minute or two, he stopped. I was smarting, but I wasn't expecting such a short trip. I made to stand, but his arm was laid firmly over my back. Then I saw the reason for his pause. He reached behind him and withdrew a wooden spoon.

"Dimitri," I reasoned. "You have got to be kidding me."

He popped me once on the backside. I hissed and grimaced, then looked back at him, questioning.

"This will never happen again."

It wasn't a question.

"Dimitri, don't, please. Anything but that."

"Don't start with the histrionics. This is for your taking advantage of Josephine – you know full well she has my permission to punish you when necessary and this is exactly how she'd have done it, and no guarantees she won't when she shows up tonight for dinner and you tell her what you did."

"That's not fair!"

"Get a helmet," he retorted. I turned away, resigned, and somewhat surprised at his veracity.

He proceeded to wallop me soundly with the dreaded implement, until I was sufficiently sorry for my actions and offering apologies for any future transgressions on my part or my children's part or my children's children's part.

When he was done, he set the spoon down and swatted me one last time with his hand. I cried out, getting hurriedly to my feet and rubbing my poor backside. "_Jo_ wouldn't have hit me so many times," I sniffed, stubbornly swiping beneath my nose with the back of my hand.

Dimitri pointed a finger at me. "That's your problem exactly. You underestimate her."

"I took you out with a shovel," I challenged boldly, cradling my abused backside. "I can get away from _Josephine_."

Dimitri grabbed me by the arm and yanked me back over his lap, swatting me another dozen times and making me holler loudly. I was crying heartily when he pulled me up again, tugging me close.

"I've had enough, Embry. You are dangerously close to the end of my patience. You will be respectful to Josephine from this point forward, or I will drag you out to the stable and we'll continue this conversation with a switch. I've half a mind to do so, anyway, given that you've been a right conniving little imp, disobeying me like you did."

I looked up, hoping against hope.

"I won't," he declared firmly, eying me to make sure I understood his lenience was a gift. "But you give me one more reason to doubt your honesty, I will. Is that understood?"

"Y'sir," I sniffed.

"Go get caught up on your assignments."

I nodded sullenly.

"And D's are beneath you, Embry. I don't want to see any more of them."

I nodded.

Upstairs," he ordered, releasing my arm and sending me off with another painful smack.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 - Josephine**

Josephine came in the summer of my twelfth year, Dimitri's final solution to an exhausted list of babysitters – all of which I'd run off or discredited – Josephine was a permanent hire. She arrived promptly at five o' clock each morning and departed the house sometime in the night after putting me to bed. After a while, she simply moved in, living in the small guest house just past the wheat field by the lake. It was a modest, two-room cabin Dimitri built for her. It had a little porch and a fireplace and its own bathtub and stove. Of course, the gentleman that he was, he first invited her to live in one of the second-floor spare rooms, but she refused on the grounds of not wanting to be an imposition, and when Josephine set her mind to something, it was her way or the highway. When I was in school, she did a variety of things. One day of the week she tended to the house. Other days she ran errands.

She was not overly strict. She was elderly, but not frail. Commanding, in fact, but in a different way than Dimitri. She never demanded respect, and she didn't need to – one sour look from her was enough to _guilt _me into behaving. Dimitri acted the professional employer at first, but gradually warmed to her company as a member of the household. I do not suspect he ever told her his secret, but I never heard her ask, either.

At first, I did my best to avoid her, and when I couldn't I made sure to let her know I didn't want her around. She was there every morning and every night and seemed to always be in the room when I wanted to do something like skimp on my studies or watch TV when I shouldn't be.

And boy, was she quick with that wooden spoon.

I was dreading dinner and having to tell her what I did that morning. I prayed that maybe it would slip Dimitri's mind, or he would let me slide, but I knew better, and she'd be able to tell. She was always able to tell. She said she could read my face. How do you beat that?

Exhausted, but proud of myself, I finished an essay I'd been putting off for the past couple of weeks and rolled over in my bed, grimacing at the lingering sting in my backside and glancing at my watch. Just past five in the evening. I heard a thunk outside my window and got to my feet. Dimitri was three floors below, lugging firewood from the garden where he chopped it to the pile by the garage. Excited at the prospect of getting out of my room, I quickly changed out of my school clothes and into jeans.

I hurried down the stairs, my sturdy boots hammering the steps.

"Slow down, child!" a voice emerged from the kitchen, bringing me to a screeching halt. _Josephine. _

I crept into the room. The air was heavy and smelt of sweet spices. Josephine was leaning over the island, chopping a thick cut of venison into smaller chunks for one of her patented stews. I almost melted in anticipation. Jo's dinners were peerlessly excellent.

"Hey, Josephine," I muttered dolefully, trying to see if Dimitri had told her anything.

"Going out to help your daddy?" she replied cheerfully.

I nodded.

"Well, you let him know that dinner will be ready in an hour and a half."

"Yes, ma'am," I acquiesced, taking the opportunity to hurry out the door by the bay window, the screen slamming shut behind me.

xxxxx

Dimitri put me to work chopping wood, which was fine by me. Since coming to live with him, I found myself so much more physically able than I used to be when I was living on the street, in and out of foster homes. I enjoyed a challenge and seeing myself grow. Chores weren't really that much of a chore [unless they were getting in the way of playtime] because I enjoyed them. Well, most of them.

After about an hour or so we were finished. I'd chopped a small, formidable pile of wood and was busy weeding the garden.

"Alright, go on and get ready for dinner." Dimitri stepped over and bent down to examine my work. Satisfied, he took my shovel and I made toward the house. "Hold it," he urged gently, pulling me back by the collar of my red flannel shirt. "Bath."

"Dimitri, I'm tired..." I wasn't. I just didn't want a bath.

"Well, if you can convince Josephine to serve you dinner looking like an animate clod of dirt-"

"_Alright_," I grumbled. I maneuvered my way through the garden with its rows of lettuce and radishes and toward the edge where the bathhouse sat. Reaching up, I unlatched the door and let it swing open. The shed was about ten by ten, handmade of wood boards with a floor of stones harvested from the land and cut on a machine Dimitri kept. I had lived with him for a couple years now and never seen a single hired worker, except Josephine, anywhere on the property. Despite that, the shed had been rebuilt, the house continually restored, and the garden kept well-tended. Dimitri was able to work long hours because of being above human levels of exhaustion, but I think he would have done it forever, just to see the product of his own creation. I don't believe this was about pride or power, just self-sufficiency.

There was a small glass window on the west wall, just above the bathtub, a large repurposed wine fermenter I think was left here before Dimitri moved in. A wide, wooden shelf ran the length of the opposite wall, covered in an assortment of objects: some of Dimitri's tools and emergency supplies, a stock of soap and some sheets of cloth for towels. On the sill there was a row of lanterns and some matches. I struck one and it blazed up heartily, nearly burning me before I could light the wick of the biggest lantern. It was made of iron, antique, and heavy as I lifted it up onto the shelf to counter the impending night.

"It's getting dark, Embry!"

"I'm coming!" I blew out the match and rushed outside. Dimitri was approaching through the garden, carrying four buckets of water on a pole across his shoulders. I ran past him to the well and hauled up another two, which I carried back and emptied into the rapidly filling tub. Dimitri was finishing up and left to fetch four more. I lit another lantern. He returned, emptied the last buckets, and switched on the heater, which was a machine he had rigged to keep the water warm in the winter and cooler months. It was hooked to a line that ran to a generator on the property. Electricity ran through the wires and heated a metal pole that was attached to the wall of the tub and hug halfway into the water. Given a few minutes, water previously cold would be pleasantly warm.

I leaned against the wall of the tub and unbuttoned my flannel, pulling it off my shoulders. Dimitri took it and laid it over the counter, along with my t-shirt. I yanked off my boots and stuffed my socks into them.

"I'm going to bring the tools back in," Dimitri stated, scrubbing at his face with a rag. He left, and I stripped off my khaki corduroys and underwear and slipped into the tub with a relaxing sigh, leaning against the sloped wall and resting my arms on either side, completely content to remain in such comfort forever. The water grew warmer and warmer and soothed my muscles, sore from a hard day's work. Outside, the sun began to recede beneath the windowsill and I heard Dimitri's loud whistle and the subsequent barking of the dog. This mutt was unnamed but very lovable, a stray that made its home somewhere on the property before Dimitri took him in. He claimed it was to make him a work animal like the horses and goats, but I liked to think Dimitri craved companionship. I thought it was sweet and often goaded him about it, saying it proved he had a heart, after all. Damn dog didn't know when to shut up, though.

The door swung open and Dimitri stepped in with the tools, setting the smaller ones on the shelf and leaning the shovels against the wall in the far corner.

"_Wash_, Embry. Jo's not holding that dinner once it's ready."

"It doesn't take me that long," I argued, reaching for the soap in the dish, setting aside the toy airplane and twin soldiers that sat upon it. I scrubbed half-heartedly at my arms and chest.

"Dimitri?" I looked up. He continued to replace tools onto shelves.

"Hmm."

I never know how it starts. Sometimes I catch Dimitri in moments of quietude and the questions just come, burning themselves into my headspace, filling up my chest until I let them out one by one. But all the elements had to be right – all the factors had to be there. Dimitri and I had just worked together, forgiven each other, and were tired. There was nothing to do but wait. So I asked. "How old are you?"

He sucked in a deep breath, thumbing his chin. I looked away, hoping I hadn't crossed a line. Dimitri was usually somewhat touchy about questions regarding his past. Giving him time, I continued to scrub. He remained quiet, but moved, taking one of the water buckets and setting it on the floor upside-down at the side of the tub. He took a seat. I swallowed, unable to read his expression.

"Why do you want to know things like that?"

I chewed on my lower lip. "Someday I'm going to be older than you."

He rested his arms on the side of the tub and gestured openly with his hands, suggesting his agreement. "So how _old_ am I, or how long have I been here?"

I shrugged. "Both?"

"I am thirty-six. And I was born in Manchester in 1723."

I did some quick math in my head. "Wow," I whispered to him as I came to a conclusion. "But in a couple decades or so I'll be older than you."

"I suppose you will."

"I don't... want to be older than you."

He looked up and sighed. "That's what happens, Embry, you grow up, you get old."

"You didn't. You never will."

"Embry," he sighed. It was a conversation we'd had before.

"It's not fair," I muttered, sinking my toy airplane into the water.

"I didn't choose this, Embry. Get that through your head. No one chooses this."

"Why not?" I responded quietly, realizing that I was pushing him toward the edge but gripped by the prospect of answers to curb my boldness. It wasn't the first time. I had spent the better part of the last few weeks trying to get answers out of him. To this day I'm not sure why. I suppose I was at that stage in my childhood between growing up and being grown, and it had finally struck me that things were changing and were eventually going to spiral out of my control. Unless I took control now.

"It's got to be better than getting old and dying and never having any time to do anything. You always travel. I bet you've been everywhere. How many people do you know that get to go everywhere and do whatever they want?" I paused. "_I_ would choose it."

"Finish up," he ordered subduedly, gathering my clothes and heading for the door. "And don't forget to put out the lantern."

He opened the door and disappeared into the night. For a while I sat pondering unhappily the gravity of the last few moments, but at that time and age could never get past my own wanton selfishness to try and experience things from Dimitri's point of view. The light in the lantern began to flicker as a breeze blew in from the open doorframe. I held my nose and sunk beneath the murky water.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 - Revelation**

Toward the end of dinner, Dimitri nodded pointedly at me over the rim of his glass of scotch. I sighed and put down my fork.

"Josephine?"

"Yes, child?" she smiled fondly at me and brought my plate to the sink, plunging it into the hot water. Dimitri rose, paced to the archway that led into the parlor, and leaned casually against it, stranding me. I swallowed. "I have something to tell you."

_Why was this so hard? _I kept thinking. Because I didn't know what to expect. Dimitri was relatively predictable – there wasn't much in the way of misbehaving I could fess up to and not know what exactly I was in for. But with Josephine I had no clue.

"Oh, what's that?"

Her naivety was crushing.

"I lied to you about school this morning," I blurted out quietly.

She stopped what she was doing and I saw her head droop a little as she hunched over the sink. She turned to face me, drying her hands on the front of her worn, red apron and leaning back against the edge of the sink. "How is that?"

I got to my feet, anxiously gripping the back of my chair. "I didn't have a field trip. I lied. And we weren't late – I... I changed the time on your clock so you'd think we were and take me straight to the fairground."

Josephine didn't speak. Her softness, the warm glow of tender praise and maternal joy that normally hung about her shoulders like an invisible shroud was gone, and now they slumped down in betrayed defeat. My stomach plummeted to my feet and in that instant I felt so wrong. I looked sadly at Dimitri, but I deserved no comfort and received none. He raised his chin toward Jo.

"I'm sorry, Josephine," I attempted. She didn't speak, didn't look at me. Dimitri placed his hand on my shoulder.

"Upstairs," he commanded gently.

xxxxx

Once I was through the trapdoor I slammed it shut and paced frenetically around my room before collapsing on my rickety bed and covering my face with my hands. What had I done? All that for a day out of school? Whatever fun I had with Damien that afternoon was paling and receding into unimportance against the expression on Jo's face when I told her what I did. What if she didn't like me anymore? She has reason not to. What if she leaves? If she leaves it will be my fault.

I don't know when, but tears came to my eyes. I rolled over and punched my pillow, pressing my face into the worn fabric and crying softly.

This wasn't new. Everything was coming back – my life on the outs, handed through the doors of foster home after foster home, none of whom held onto me long enough to be memorable, but all of whom passed me on because I was a screw-up, a bad kid, an uncorrectable kid. I made everybody miserable and I made everybody leave me and I had done it again. I suppose it was only a matter of time. Had I been deluding myself? Was Dimitri fed up with me, too? Was he making plans to pass me on?

"What nonsense are you filling your head with now?"

I raised my head, startled. Dimitri took a seat on the side of my bed, the mattress depressing with his weight. I didn't roll over to look at him, unable to speak, the tears coming more freely now. He gave me a small, sympathetic smile and placed a strong hand on my back, rubbing firmly over my sweater. My cheeks burned with shame.

"Do you remember when you and Damien went to the creek and you were caught in that flood?"

Not sure what this had to do with anything, I nodded.

"Do you remember what I said after it was over?"

I thought about it, but I couldn't, and shook my head 'no.'

"About feeling sorry for yourself?"

His gaze was soft, but not devoid of sternness. I nodded. "You said it was selfish," I muttered through slowing tears. He removed his hand from my back.

"Hey," he encouraged firmly, tilting his head back. Understanding, I sat up defeatedly, swiping at my wet cheeks and placing my hands between my legs. Dimitri smiled again.

"Embry."

"Y'sir," I replied dejectedly, picking at a loose thread on my bedsheet.

He placed a hand beneath my chin and raised my head. "There is nothing you can ever do to make me leave you." Gently, he wiped a stray tear from my cheek using his thumb, but the tears began anew. I hung my head, sobbing pitifully, and he didn't miss a beat, drawing me into his arms and resting me on his lap. "I didn't mean to make her angry," I cried into his chest. "I don't want her to be angry."

"Hush," he soothed, scratching me gingerly behind the ear and carding a hand through my hair. I continued to cry and he shook me gently by the collar. "_Hush, _Em."

The rare usage of my nickname brought me back to earth and I began to breathe easily again. Calm, I leaned into Dimitri's embrace and worked on not feeling sorry for myself.

"Now why is it that you don't feel this bad after _I _catch you misbehaving?" He grinned.

I managed a chuckle. "Jo's nicer than you," I muttered cheekily.

Dimitri laughed and cuffed me lightly on the side of the head. "Brat."

After what seemed like too short a time, Dimitri pulled me off his lap and stood me in front of him. I swiped again at my drying cheeks, but there were no more tears.

"Josephine will be coming up in a few minutes to talk to you before she goes home for the weekend."

I flushed, dreading the encounter, but remembered what Dimitri had said and nodded.

"You will be contrite, respectful, and submit to whatever punishment she decides."

There was the disciplinarian I knew Dimitri to be. I nodded dolefully. He smiled. "Finish your homework?"

"Most of it," I answered truthfully.

"Good girl." He stood and kissed me on the forehead, heading for the trapdoor. "And Embry-"

I turned to face him. "Yes, sir?"

"Believe it or not, Josephine is very fond of you."

I smiled, still worried, but a small spark had returned to me.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 – Facing Josephine**

I went back to my homework, convinced the world wasn't going to end but growing more wary of events still to come. As I have said, I didn't know what to expect with Jo. I hadn't really ever made her mad before. Not seriously mad. Not mad enough to keep me in dire anticipation of facing her. She'd utilized that wooden spoon more than once when I was grating on her patience or being an annoyance in the kitchen – sneaking my fingers into freshly baked cakes and such, but I doubted I was in for anything like that. Dimitri already saw to it, though that seemed ages ago now.

I glanced at the clock – it was close to 9:30. I rose from my small desk and went to my bed, taking a seat and grabbing a comic book from the nightstand drawer.

I tried to read but nothing really stuck, waited a few minutes, growing antsy, and finally the trapdoor opened. I flushed with apprehension, sliding the battered issue of Batman and Robin back onto the nightstand and getting to my feet. Josephine's head emerged first and she glanced around, spotting me on the bed. She clambered the rest of the way up the ladder and stood in the center of the room. She looked different – she'd taken off her apron, done with her work for the day, and had a wool coat on over her dress. The realization that she was a normal person with a normal life struck me hard.

I wanted to say something but my throat felt like it was closing up. Josephine hung her purse on the rack with my coat and went silently to my dresser, studying the row of soldiers and the haphazardly stacked blocks on the floor. Noticing something on the mirror, she removed her winter gloves and plucked it from the edge of the frame. It was a bus ticket. "Embry, whatever is this for?" she questioned, shattering the silence.

"It's a voucher," I replied eagerly. "Dimitri got it for me, in case I..."

In my effort to be conversational I hadn't realized that it wouldn't make sense why Dimitri had purchased a bus voucher for me. Of course, Josephine was aware Dimitri wasn't my real father, but seeing as she wasn't aware that I wasn't in the strictest sense _adopted_, either...

"...in case he ever can't pick me up from school or something." I licked my lips. "I'm sorry, Josephine. I shouldn't have done what I did."

She smiled sadly and gestured toward the bed. I sat down, eager to be forgiven, and she sat down next to me after replacing the bus pass in the frame. I looked up, hoping for another smile, but it was gone and she looked back at me. "I didn't mean to be disrespectful or anything," I implored.

"Yes, you did," she acknowledged, crushing me. "You asked me to drive you because you knew that I would believe your fool story about the 'field trip that wasn't.'"

I hung my head, thoroughly chastened. My eyes watered. "Are you... going to quit?"

"Child, you're laborin' under a serious delusion if you think you have that kind of power over other people."

I understood [mostly] but it didn't really help. I looked at her yearningly.

"No," she promised, shaking her head. "And I wish I didn't have to punish you."

I swallowed, but accepted this [mostly]. "Then why are you going to?" I tested in a small voice.

"Well, I suppose because that's what mothers do for their children, to help them grow up and be good people, the kind of people who don't lie or cheat or steal from each other, who think of others before themselves."

"You're not my mother," I returned curiously, with not a hint of peevishness.

"You don't have to be blood to be family, child. You ought to know that."

"I guess. That's a big burden for you, isn't it, though?" I whispered honestly.

Josephine actually chuckled at that. "No, Embry, it isn't. If you are anything, and you are a _lot_ of things, child, a burden isn't one of them. Impatient, persistent, a pain in my royal behind, but never a burden."

I managed a smile, and for a moment we were silent. I wrung my hands in my lap. "So," I started tentatively. "Are you still going to... you know..."

"You look me in the eyes and tell me that you honest-to-Jesus don't deserve it and I won't."

I inhaled and exhaled, breathing in her scent – the aroma of venison leftover from dinner, of the lemon bleach cleaner she was fond of washing the floor with, of a lavender perfume she always wore, and now the musty smell of this wool coat I'd never seen.

"I don't want to lie to you again," I stated, nervously drumming my fist against my leg. "Do you want me to get the... spoon?" I forced the word out, grimacing as I did so.

"No, I think my hand will serve just fine."

As my gut plummeted to my feet, she nodded, gazing at me softly before turning her attention to her hands, which were entwined in her lap. After a few seconds, she relinquished her hold on her gloves, setting them aside. "Come on," she began, surprisingly stern.

I stepped over with controlled hesitation. In my head I reasoned, 'how bad could it be?' A smacking from Dimitri was enough to send me into spirals of trepidation, but he had a wrathful temper and a big hand. Jo's were... old. And she was a woman. Maybe it wouldn't hurt as much. Maybe I could pretend it hurt a lot and she'd go easy on me.

Gingerly I eased myself over her lap, fully intending to play it up.

I was unpleasantly surprised. It took a little while longer than it would have taken Dimitri, but after a few minutes she had me warmed up good and proper. On top of a previous whipping this took incrementally less time to accomplish than it should have. I am still grateful that she never whipped out that wooden spoon, but it wasn't until years later that I realized the reason why she hadn't was probably because this punishment was personal.

Eventually, I was crying quietly into the sleeves of my sweater, and not because of the growing fire in my backside continually stoked by Josephine's even rhythm of swats, but because I was guilty and I felt it all the way down to my core. Downright remorseful.

"You remember what got you here?" she questioned with maternal veracity. I tried to breathe through the tears.

"I- I lied to you."

"And?"

"I... took advantage of you. I'm sorry, Josephine!"

Finally, she stopped. Weakly, I made to stand, as I would usually do when Dimitri was done with me, but Josephine held me firmly down on her knees. "Just relax, child," she murmured, settling back a bit so I could rest more comfortably across her lap. I didn't protest. In fact, I was grateful, but I would never have admitted it. I laid there, crying quietly as she rubbed my back.

"I'm s-sorry, Josephine," I softly, "I'm really, really sorry."

"I know, child."

"I sh-shouldn't have acted like t-that..."

"Alright, now," she soothed, pushing her hand up beneath my sweater and rubbing my back. "That's enough. It's over."

"But I-"

"Hush now, Embry Denatos. Or should I start up again?"

"No, ma'am," I answered respectfully.

"You just rest and get a hold of yourself," she commanded as she gently scratched my back from my shoulderblades down to my waist.

As much as it went against my grain, and Dimitri's general practice of not offering mounds of comfort after a punishment, I found myself relaxing into the up-and-down rhythm of Jo's hand on my back. I wondered when she was going to stop, but I wasn't unhappy when she didn't. My crying subsided, and I yawned, growing sleepy, the pain in my rear being overtaken by exhaustion. Jo noticed and switched from scratching to rubbing and then patting me firmly between the shoulderblades.

I don't remember falling asleep, but I remember rousing slightly to the sound of the trapdoor opening and closing, Dimitri's hands beneath my arms, tugging me free of Jo's lap, and settling me beneath the warm sheets of my bed.


End file.
